


Neutral Zone

by Tex



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-22
Updated: 2010-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 16:03:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tex/pseuds/Tex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the expedition is kicked out of Atlantis by the Ancients, John tries to find his footing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neutral Zone

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS: Everything through S3 The Return Part I
> 
> My most sincere thanks to Lamardeuse and Crysothemis who were essential to making this story better. You guys are the best. &amp;hearts

Once they were done with their briefings at the SGC and before the paperwork for their new assignments went through, they scattered to the four winds for mandatory R&amp;R. Carson took off for Scotland to spend the next seven days with his mother. Elizabeth left for New England to visit her parents, and then she was on to Washington DC for a series of meetings with the various big cheeses and high muckity mucks there.

Rodney had agreed to spend some time with Jeannie in Vancouver but was doing so with the usual pontificating about how he was the most valuable brain currently in the Milky Way Galaxy and to force him into a vacation was to risk the security of all of humanity.

"Are they aware that Jeannie has a child under the age of six?" he had complained to John. "Exactly how productive do they imagine I'll be with the SpongeBob Squarepants theme song ringing in my head?"

They walked down the grey halls of the SGC together, dodging uniforms and white-coated personnel. "That's the point. You're supposed to unwind. Do trivial things. Veg out."

"Oh, yes, definitely one of my strong suits. Perhaps I'll brush up on my hopscotch skills, hmm?"

"Get real, Rodney. Kids don't play hopscotch any more."

"And you would know this, how, exactly?"

"The internet."

They stopped at the elevator and John grinned at the thought of Rodney McKay trapped in suburbia with only his laptop for entertainment. He helped Rodney lift his backpack up to his shoulder and leaned in to push the up button. "Well, how bad can things get when you know there's a nice, fat tofurkey in the fridge?"

Rodney scowled at him. "You just had to mention that, didn't you?"

During the ride topside, Rodney rifled through his carry-on, checking his supply of emergency power bars and his airline ticket and vowing to have whoever had booked him for an 8:30am departure, with a layover in San Francisco before he got to Vancouver, fired.

Then, as Rodney was inclined to do, he switched gears and thrust a piece of paper at him. "Here."

John looked at it. "What's this?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "The access code to my Swiss bank account. What do you think it is?"

His eyes narrowed. "They're phone numbers. So?"

"It's my cell phone number and Jeannie's home number." Rodney's voice got a little higher and there was a flash of uncertainty in his blue eyes that made John's stomach do a little flip. "It's – you know, just in case something comes up and you – someone needs me."

John held the slip of paper between two fingers, waving it teasingly. "In case something comes up? Like what?" he asked, drawing out the first word because Rodney looked a little too serious. And John spent large chunks of his time making certain that the serious moments between him and Rodney were few and far between.

It worked. Rodney glared and with surprising speed, snatched the piece of paper out of John's hand. "Fine. You're right. What could possibly happen? McKay's going on holiday and peace simultaneously descends upon the Universe."

"Give it back, Rodney."

"No," Rodney stated flatly, with a stubborn lift of his chin, clutching the paper in one restless hand.

"Give me the damn numbers," John demanded with irritation, grabbing it out of Rodney's hand when he held it out again. John shoved the paper into his pants pocket as the elevator opened.

Rodney settled into the back seat of a staff car and John shut the door. As the car pulled away, Rodney leaned forward and gave John what might have been a wave but could have been a swat at an insect. Before John could decide which one it was, the car was gone. It was just as well; John had never been much for goodbyes.

 

* * *

 

A few people asked what he was going to do with his time off and John told them that he was going to spend some time at home. No one seemed to remember that home for him had been the base on Antarctica.

No one except Rodney. Rodney had called him on it before they left Atlantis.

"What kind of bullshit is that? What are you up to?"

"Rodney, let it go. If there's one thing that I know, it's how to relax."

"Oh, God. You're going on one of those drunken, sex-filled shore leaves like you see in the movies, aren't you?"

"Jealous?"

Rodney's big shoulders had slumped a little then. "Green with it."

 

* * *

 

John accepted a ride to the airport when it was offered. There, he rented a car – a Chevy Cobalt; it was relatively cheap and he wasn't planning on doing much driving anyway - then headed back toward town: west on Drennan, north on I-25, left on Circle Drive. He pulled the car up to the entrance of The Broadmoor and within 15 minutes he had an obscenely expensive room in the main building with eye popping pink flowers on the drapes and a wall-to-wall window with a sweet view of the lake.

The first thing he did was take his shoes off. He never had much chance to go barefoot on Atlantis. There was the military commander thing and the unexpected life-threatening situation thing but mostly, the smooth ancient floors were just fucking cold all the time. He wiggled his toes into the busy patterned carpet and sighed happily. _There_ was something he'd missed.

He was hungry, but he didn't call room service. He didn't want to talk to anybody for a while. Instead, he swept the dozen throw pillows off the bed and flopped down with the remote. He slowed down for a couple of seconds when he found an episode of Gunsmoke but kept going, through all 56 channels and then back again.

He finally settled on a rerun of the 1987 Rose Bowl on ESPN Classic but his eyes kept drifting shut. With the sound of a cheering crowd in the background, he fell into a deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

John woke up several times during the night and each time, he struggled with a moment of disorientation. At some point during the night, he undressed and turned off the TV but it was the darkness that threw him. Atlantis was never completely dark, except when something bad was going down. Each time his eyes opened and saw a canvas of inky black, he was engulfed in a choking panic that propelled him half out of bed, his heart pounding, reaching blindly for his 9mm. He broke a glass and the alarm clock before he finally took everything off the night table, safely out of his reach.

He didn't leave his room at all the next day. He didn't have to – he could get anything he wanted by just picking up the phone. He had a pile of newspapers sent up with his breakfast but he lost interest before he got through the first section of the New York Times.

He wasn't really a bath kind of guy but he couldn't resist the deep, wide tub in his massive bathroom. He ran the water as hot as he could stand it and soaked until he got pruney, the white noise of the TV in the background. There was a little bottle of lemongrass and sage body lotion in the bathroom and it made him think of Rodney. Which made him think of Atlantis and Ronon and Teyla, which made him wonder what the hell he was doing here.

The SGC gave him a cellphone and a pager before he left. He left them on and put them both in the console of his rented car. He wasn't in any hurry to get bad news. Instead, he looked through the visitor information in the room and made tentative plans to take the cog train to the top of Pike's Peak before he left. Not quite the adrenaline rush of rescuing two teammates from a Wraith hive ship but wasn't like he had anything else to do.

 

* * *

 

He ended up not leaving his room the next day either, except for a half hour while housekeeping cleaned up his room. John took the elevator down to the lobby and had the valet bring his car around. He got in and drove down to the end of the hotel drive, stopping only long enough to check the cell phone and pager for messages.

There were two voice mails on the phone, both from Elizabeth. John listened to the first one, his throat dry, as Elizabeth told him that there was time for him to join her at the Washington briefings. The second message told him to disregard the first, that she would see him in the next few weeks. John had the car back in five minutes, ignoring the narrowed look he got from the valet and not giving him a tip. He went to the gift shop, bought three wildly expensive Kit Kats and went back up to his room.

 

* * *

 

He was deep into the fourth hour of a Leave It to Beaver marathon when the ringing of the cordless phone made him jump off the bed. John's heart was still pounding when he picked up. Immediately, there was a voice on the other end, already halfway into a conversation.

"You've got to get me out of here."

"Rodney?" John fumbled the receiver a little when he switched ears, surprised by the affection that swept through him. Until he'd heard Rodney's voice, John hadn't realized how hungry he was for something or someone familiar.

It was almost like being on comm and John was suddenly flooded with sense memories of Atlantis – the fake meatloaf in the mess and how Elizabeth's office always smelled of lavender and the rough warmth of his sheets in the morning -- and it settled what had been unsettled in him since arriving back on Earth.

"I don't know how much more I can take. The Wraith could learn a few things from my sister and her frighteningly pedestrian family. I mean, who knew that there were hillbillies in Canada? And that Jeannie would be one of them?"

"How did you find me?" John quickly interjected when Rodney took a breath, because he knew his next opportunity to ask might not come for a while.

"Oh, please. After the way Atlantis waits on you hand and foot, where else could you go in Colorado where the amenities even come close? I got it on the first try."

"Well, good for you. What's going up there?" John grabbed the remote off the floor, hit mute, and then settled back into the pillows again. After his self-imposed two days of silence, John was suddenly ready for a little conversation.

"Jeannie and Caleb want to introduce me to their friends so they are giving me some kind of vegetarian barbecue in my honor. A _barbecue_, Colonel. Organic potato salad and biodegradable plates are being set out as we speak. I want no part of this, I tell you."

Mmm. Barbecue. "It sounds nice. What's the problem?"

"The problem is Jeannie's husband. My esteemed brother-in-law has a new job and…he's…oh, God, it's so shameful I can hardly even fathom it."

"He's -- ?" John encouraged him to get on with it.

"He's -- he's a -- "

"Jesus, Rodney, what? An environmental terrorist? A hot dog vendor? _What_?"

"He's a…a literature professor."

Rodney sounded so thoroughly disgusted that John had to laugh and that wound Rodney up even more. While he was trying to get a hold of himself, Rodney's indignant voice rose in John's ear. It was all so sweetly familiar that it hurt.

"Yes, go ahead and laugh it up. Revel in my pain, why don't you? Caleb's not even a full professor. He's only an associate. He doesn't even have _tenure._"

"That bastard."

"You jest but in a matter of minutes, I'm going to be up to my elbows in pencil-necked liberal arts geeks and their pencil-necked offspring. How much do you bet that at least one of them will be wearing a bow tie?"

Rodney might be a geek but he wasn't pencil-necked. Rodney's neck was wonderfully thick and muscular. It had to be, to sit on those broad shoulders of his. "I never realized what a snob you are, Rodney. Oh, wait. Yes, I did."

Rodney made a hmmph sound, sort of growly and angry, and John's whole body flushed hot. "Why did I make this call? There must have been a reason but I forget," Rodney snapped.

"Why _did_ you call me? My curiosity is getting the better of me." John asked before he could stop himself.

There was a long pause, long enough for John to hear the faint sounds of adult voices in the background. "I … don't..." Rodney's voice sounded pissy and hesitant at the same time. Rodney was the only person John knew who could do that. "Being here – this is all wrong and I thought maybe you'd get that."

John smiled faintly but it took a lot of effort. "Yeah," he answered quietly, "I do get that."

"Yes," Rodney said, drawing in a breath to say more. Before he could, the volume on his end increased and there was a high-pitched cry of "Uncle Mer'dith, come on, they're here."

"Go away, you munchkin, can't you see I'm on the phone? And I said to call me Uncle R…oh, crap, I have to go greet the poets and philosophers. Please just kill me now." And then, just before the phone clicked in John's ear, a child's voice started to chorus, "You said a bad word, you said a bad word..."

John clicked off the phone and went back to The Beaver, but he didn't stop smiling for a long while.

 

* * *

 

His third full day in Colorado was a dark, rainy one so John didn't see any reason to venture beyond the walls of the building, even to check his messages. Instead, while the maids cleaned up his room, he found the hotel's version of a Starbucks/newsstand. He grabbed a breakfast croissant sandwich and browsed through the racks of magazines and newspapers while he ate.

There was a sampling of tabloids, most of which had Paris Hilton on their cover and John shuddered a little as his gaze moved on; that lazy eye of hers really creeped him out. The covers of Maxim and Stuff were infinitely more appealing but all the smooth, tanned skin and wet lips only reminded him of the sad state of his sex life, so he bought a Sports Illustrated and a Sporting News and went back to his room.

By eight o'clock that night, John was working on his second mini-bar sized bottle of Glenlivet and feeling vaguely horny. There were a number of ways to fix that, he thought. He could spend some time in one of the hotel bars, or at a club in town and pick up some company for the night. For longer than was wise, he considered it. He'd always been lucky that way and it would take care of things physically, if not emotionally.

It had been so long since he'd been naked with somebody, somebody that wanted him because they wanted to get fucked, just for the fun of it, not because they wanted his ATA gene or because they believed John to be their destiny. But picking up strangers had never been his style and it was always more trouble than it was worth. So he cracked open another little green bottle and stayed put.

John had the channel lineup committed to memory by now and he went back and forth through his favorites. After a while, he clicked on the preview channels for the pay-per-view and after a moment's hesitation, scrolled through the soft-core porn selections. Still pictures, no video clips and John looked at all of them. Twice. But when he was done, his dick wasn't any more than half-hard. Plus, he kept thinking about all the ways that it could go wrong.

What if there was a fire? He was dressed – a tee shirt and drawstring sweatpants that allowed easy access to his dick - but once the porn got cranking, he couldn't guarantee he'd stay that way.

And could he really trust that there wasn't going to be some record of what he was ordering? Christ, he could see the headlines now –"Air Force Officer in Porn Scandal: sting uncovers hundreds of taxpayer dollars spent on in-room dirty movies". His position with the SGC was not so secure that he could hand the powers that be _that_ kind of ammunition.

But there was one preview image, of a dark-eyed brunette with the huge tits hovering open-mouthed over a leggy blonde in high heels that sort of worked for him. John's thumb was hovering over the Select button when the phone rang; he dropped the remote like a hot potato and lunged across the bed for the cordless phone.

" 'llo?" He sounded guilty even to his own ears.

"What's wrong? There's something wrong. What is it?"

"Rodney."

"You're with a woman, aren't you? Right now? What does she look like?"

"In case you didn't know, we don't really have that kind of relationship." John shivered a little because wow, wouldn't that be a kick? He and Rodney getting together after their dates, rare though they were, and describing, in detail –

"Well, we definitely should. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I got laid? I mean, Jesus, Sheppard, where's your compassion?"

John chuckled and closed his eyes, stretching out on his back. The liquor was sluicing through his veins and it left him feeling heavy and warm. And _finally_ his dick decided to get with the program, filling out nicely. Great. "What's going on in Canada? How's life as a vegan?"

"I told Jeannie I was going to Chapters and spent two hours at Burger King, that's how it's going," Rodney groused. "How's it there? What have you been up to besides debauchery?"

"You know. Just the usual."

"I shudder to think what _that_ means." Rodney then spent a few minutes describing the liberal arts barbecue, his reasoned argument for getting Madison's IQ tested now and his surprise at Jeannie's outraged refusal.

John closed his eyes, barely paying attention but absorbing every nuance just the same, relaxing into the mattress, his muscles uncoiling a tension that he hadn't realized he had. He slipped his fingertips under his tee shirt and stroked the skin over his hipbone. Soft. Unhurried. Like a lover might touch him. Like no one had touched him in so long.

"…know she's a McKay, so of course she's exceptional, but Jeannie hasn't got any idea of the time being wasted on things like ballet and Thomas the Tank Engine."

"When are you coming back?" John interrupted him, his voice more rough than he had intended.

There was a second or two of tense silence before Rodney answered. "I didn't really plan to – I mean, there's really no reason not to go straight to Area 51. The sooner I get there, the sooner I can head off the idiocy. So. Um, why do you ask?"

John suffered a brief moment of insanity, during which he entertained the idea of just saying it out loud. _I miss you_. Because fuck it all, he did miss Rodney in a way that had nothing to do with missing Atlantis and Teyla and Ronon and inanimate objects that obeyed him without him saying a word.

"Just curious," John said, his voice purposefully light and casual. "I guess you're anxious to get out there."

"Surprisingly, no, not so much. Simpson won't be there. Or Vogel or Radek and – " John heard Rodney's voice crack just a little . "I can't help but remember – how well we worked together, you and I." A beat or two passed and then Rodney hastily added more. "And Ronon and Teyla, of course. All four of us, the team, even Elizabeth and Carson, all of us, you understand what I'm saying?"

John wet his lips, the tentative strain in Rodney's voice launching a nuclear strike at every nerve ending in his body. "Colonel? Are you there?"

"Yeah. Gotta go, Rodney," John muttered hoarsely. He clicked the phone off and slid his hand down into his boxers.

Christ, he was hard now, so fucking hard. He was fiercely aroused all of a sudden, but there was something else, too. His heart was tight with a longing that was unfamiliar to him and that he wanted to get rid of, as soon as possible. John gave his dick a slow pull and groaned as need rushed in to fill the empty spaces inside him. Behind his closed lids, he flipped through the erotic magazine covers he'd seen that morning, the fuck-me smiles and the swell of tanned, unnatural tits. John opened one eye to a slit and looked at the TV, at the high arch of the blonde's foot and the sweet curve of the brunette's ass.

But in the seconds before he came, it was Rodney's wide mouth that John imagined kissing and Rodney's wide, pale shoulders and biceps that John saw when he lifted his hips off the bed, with the kind of loud, harsh groan that nobody made unless they were alone.

Afterward, John lay there panting and shaking, blindly reaching for the remote and clicking the TV off. When he was able, he sat up, set the phone back on the charger and stumbled his way into the bathroom.

John leaned over the sink and looked in the mirror. His pupils were blown, his face flushed and his dick was still half-hard and aching. _Okay, then,_ John told himself. Freebie. One time only. Stress relief. That's all.

 

* * *

 

John set the alarm for 0600, dressed and stepped out the front door of the building five minutes later. He ran in the dark silence of the Colorado morning, through the middle of the Broadmoor Golf Course, up the "civilian" side of Cheyenne Mountain to the gates of the zoo and back down again. His lungs burned at the effort it took to get up to the nearly 7,000 foot elevation and his legs were shaking by the time he made it back down again.

After a quick shower, John spent the remainder of the day on the golf course – thirty six holes, bookended by a quick breakfast and an hour on the driving range. By the time John got back to his room, it was dark again and he was too tired to give thought to anything but a shower and bed. He crawled under the covers and turned out the light and resolutely did not think about anything. As tired as he was, though, he wasn't able to drop off to sleep right away. He stretched beneath the covers and flopped around, searching for a comfortable position. Turning onto his side, his gaze found the desk phone and the voice mail light that was blinking knowingly.

 

* * *

 

When Rodney hadn't called by the start of The Simpsons the next night, John picked up the phone. He stared at it for no longer than eight minutes before punching in Rodney's cell number.

"Hello?"

"Um." John stuttered because the voice that came over the line definitely was not Rodney's and definitely _was_ female. "I'm sorry. I think I have the wrong number."

"Colonel Sheppard? Is that you?"

"Jeannie?"

"Hey, it's good to hear from you. How are you? No, never mind, stupid question. If you're in the same frame of mind as Mer, you're about as far from giving an expletive-free response to that question as…well, something."

John couldn't help but smile. It was almost as good as being with Rodney. "I'm just fine," he interjected lightly while he had a chance. "Why are you answering Rodney's cell phone?"

Jeannie laughed. "I confiscated it before he walked out the door."

"Oh." John frowned and glanced at the alarm clock. It had to be almost eleven in Vancouver. "He's out, then?"

"Yes, for about three hours now, which is two and a half hours longer than I had reasonably hoped for. I set him up with a friend of ours and I had to resort to blackmail to get him to agree to go. I've gotten more mileage out of that bedwetting story that I ever imagined."

Jeannie kept talking about her brilliant, gorgeous scientist friend and how Meredith's eyes had lit up at the sight of her and, by the way, it was the happiest he'd looked since his arrival. Something started roiling around in John's stomach, something cold and unpleasant and God, this was a stupid idea.

"Well, good for him. Um, my room service is here so I gotta go."

"Oh. Okay. Listen, Colonel? You're always welcome here. I hope you know that." John knew she meant to be kind. He was pretty much convinced that there was no McKay in any universe with a working knowledge of pretense. But it felt too much like pity to John and nothing made him run faster. Well, almost nothing.

"That's – um, thanks, Jeannie. I'm sorry I called so late."

"I'll tell Mer you called."

"Oh, don't bother. I'll catch him later. Bye." John clicked the phone off, his whole arm tingling with the urge to bounce it off a wall.

He went to bed soon after that but sleep was accomplished only in fragments, in between vague, unformed dreams where he couldn't catch his breath. Every time he woke up, John's thoughts filled with images of Rodney. His friend, Rodney. Rodney and his beautiful scientist date. Rodney's mouth, open against a silky, perfumed shoulder. Rodney's hands, sliding into the dark space between smooth, stocking-clad thighs. Rodney's big, warm body curved around a smaller one. Arching, tensing, stroking –

John groaned and turned over onto his back, feeling too warm and nauseous. This had been so much easier on Atlantis. There, when he walked around in a uniform and sidearm, it was easy to remember why he couldn't be attracted to his best friend. But here, back here where he had never intended to be again, he was military but not a military commander.  
He was part of a team, but not _his_ team and not in his galaxy.  
Truth be told, John didn't know _where_ the fuck he was now. It felt like limbo, a neutral zone, a formless space where there were still rules and penalties.

What he did know was that being kept away from Atlantis was wrong. Leaving Teyla and Ronon to fight the Wraith alone was wrong. And Rodney on a date with someone not him? Damned if that wasn't the most fucking wrong of all.

* * *

 

John woke up for the last time past noon with gritty eyes and an aching head. In the shower he got shampoo in his eye and it swelled almost shut. He dropped his razor and took a slice out of his big toe that bled all over everything. At four o'clock, John called housekeeping to bitch that no one had serviced his room. Minutes later, he opened the door to a young maid, who quietly handed him the Privacy Please sign before easing past him. Just to be a bastard, John sat at the desk with his feet up while she cleaned up after him and glowered at no one in particular.

When it was time for The Simpsons that night, John turned to the movie previews and ordered up the big-titted brunette/high-heeled blonde movie and jerked off with ruthless precision. He was back to the Simpsons within fifteen minutes.

* * *

The ringing of the phone cut into his dreamless sleep with the finesse of one of Ronon's knives. His face mostly buried in the pillow, John swung his arm out and snagged the phone. "What?" he growled into the receiver.

"Oh. You were asleep? It's barely eleven."

Rodney.

His fingers closed convulsively around the phone. "Yes, I was fucking asleep. What do you want?"

"Jeannie just told me you called last night."

He was shaking, inside and out. "And? So?"

"I was – what the hell are you so grumpy about?"

"I was asleep, McKay. What do you want?" John asked with his teeth clamped together.

"Burning the candle at both ends, are we, Colonel? It's comforting to know that despite our altered circumstances, some things remain constant."

John tensed. He knew what was coming. He just knew it.

"Kirk."

John didn't click the phone off. He just rose up on his elbow and hurled the phone across the room as hard as he could.

* * *

John had good intentions. He really did. He was going to call Rodney to apologize, the first thing. Then room service brought up the wrong breakfast and the cable went out for hours and he decided to take some time to cool down before he blew it again.

But Rodney, impatient bastard that he was, beat him to it, calling in the middle of the afternoon, when there was a shimmering skin of sunlight on the surface of the lake.

A hot flush of anticipation went through him when the phone rang, the new phone that had been replaced just that morning.

"Hello?"

"Um. Hey. It's me."

John sat down on the bed. "Hey." If his voice sounded a little hoarse, John was sure that Rodney wasn't paying enough attention to notice.

Through the miracle of fiber optic technology, John heard a metallic squeak of whatever chair Rodney was sitting in. "Uh, look. I think I probably owe you an apology."

John swung his feet up onto the mattress and settled back against the headboard. "Probably?"

"Fine. I definitely owe you an apology," Rodney shot back with his usual exasperation and John relaxed a little. "I know you hate the Kirk thing and I just said that because – well, I shouldn't have said it."

John let his head fall back farther. "No, you shouldn't have." He was doing it again, drinking in Rodney's voice. It felt good, like the feeling he got when he pulled on his favorite tee shirt or when he walked onto the ramp of Jumper Two and it lit up with warm welcome.

"I just said that. Now, you apologize to me."

"What for? You're the one who woke me up."

"Waiting, waiting," Rodney sang determinedly and John chuckled and gave in. It occurred to him that he gave in to Rodney a lot.

"Okay, I apologize. Can we move on now?"

"Have you heard anything from the SGC?" No one could say that Rodney McKay was slow getting with the program.

"No."

A moment of silence hissed over the line. "Huh. Seems kind of odd. You'd think they'd want to get you back off-world as soon as possible."

John tamped down the dread that rose in his throat and changed the subject. "How did your date go?"

"I think that the term 'date' is a bit overstated, but – fine. It was fine."

"If you think I'm letting you get away with that pathetic answer, you're all kinds of wrong. I want details."

"Weren't you the one who said we don't have that kind of relationship?"

"But you said that we should and I've decided you're right. So come on. Give. What did she look like?" John asked, a confusing mix of anticipation and tension suffusing his skin. He wasn't sure why he wanted to listen to Rodney wax poetic about some random woman but he was sure that he was going to badger the hell out of Rodney until he spilled.

Rodney hummed softly. "She was gorgeous, for not being blonde."

"Would you get over that already? So what was she? Brunette? Redhead?"

"Brunette. Really dark, glossy brown hair, past her shoulders and wavy."

"Nice. How was she built?"

"Sheppard."

"McKay."

"Fine. In heels, she was as tall as me. And – " Rodney paused and John's heart started to thud against his ribs.

"Voluptuous."

John's dick stirred interestedly. Rodney liked voluptuous; John couldn't think of any guy who didn't like it.

"Voluptuous is good."

"Yeah," Rodney agreed in a dreamy voice. "She wasn't slim and she wasn't full-figured exactly, just really curvy and well-proportioned and – "

"Hot," John finished for him – for them both. "What did you do?"

"Excuse me?" Rodney squeaked. "Really, Colonel, I think that's a little personal."

"Cool it, Rodney. I meant where did you go."

Rodney snorted. "Did you just say 'Cool it'?"

Christ, but he'd missed this. "Don't change the subject. And judging from that reaction, you must have gotten some action tonight, so keep talking and don't leave anything out."

Rodney sighed. "The eighties really left a lasting impression on you, didn't it?"

It was John's turn to snort. "Says the guy who has the Pet Shop Boys' Greatest Hits on his personal laptop."

"What? That's absurd. I don't even – know – who you're talking about."

"Glass Tiger."

"Shut up."

"The Complete Discography of Bryan Adams."

"I'm hanging up now."

John chuckled. "Easy, tiger. Your secret's safe with me. It's Radek you have to worry about."

"That Bohemian big mouth. As soon as I get off the phone, I'm sending him an asbestos gift basket."

"I didn't hear that. Let's get back to your date. Gimme the details."

To John's surprise, Rodney did just that. From the highway robbery that was valet parking to what he had for dessert to the traffic in Vancouver. It was all very unsatisfying.

"Okay. So. Is she a keeper?"

"She isn't a fish, Colonel. She's a very engaging, moderately intelligent physicist and it was a very pleasant evening but I thought I'd wait until our second date before I propose marriage."

John's grin faded. "You're going to see her again?"

"I realize that it's a tad callous. After all, I'm due to leave in less than a week and who knows when I'll get back. But I get the feeling that -- well, that I could get laid if I play my cards right and fuck, it's been so long."

John's gut clenched. He couldn't remember ever having heard Rodney say "fuck" before and as soon as he realized that Rodney had just said it, roughly, into his ear, John was instantly hot and hard.

"But Rodney, you suck at cards," John teased, but it was no use. Because against his will, a bothersome image popped into his head – Rodney and the voluptuous physicist, her dark hair spread out on the pillow beneath her, her legs wrapped around Rodney's waist, the long muscles in his back tensing as he fucked her into oblivion – and John closed his eyes until it went away.

"Ah, yes, with the joking. Thank you for that, Colonel."

"But what about you and Katie? You've never, well, you know."

"We didn't have a date that didn't include either Cadman or Carson and since then, well, it's too weird. And unfortunately for my libido, we can't all be so rakishly attractive that we only have to grin at someone to have them fall onto their back."

John's breath stuttered to a stop. Had he heard what he thought he heard? Was Rodney trying to tell him something? Should he say something or do what he, what they both, usually did, which was pretend that it hadn't been said? He had to struggle to pay attention when Rodney kept going.

"I'm sure that sexual deprivation is a concept that you're unfamiliar with but --"

"You're not all that observant, are you, McKay?" John said in a voice unintentionally low and husky. "I spend my free time with you, Ronon or Teyla. Just -- don't go there. I need to get laid as much as you do." Rodney didn't say anything for a beat or two and John grimaced. "I guess that didn't come out right."

"Don't be ridiculous, I know exactly what you mean." There was a moment of silence and then, Rodney spoke again.

"Seriously? You?"

"Yes, Rodney, seriously."

"Hmmm." Then Rodney's voice changed, in a subtle way that John couldn't really describe. "You know what I miss more than anything? Well, not more than intercourse but still. Kissing."

John dropped his head back against the pillows and suppressed a groan. "Yep, I hear you."

"Arms around you, a mouth against yours, the shift of bodies, the slickness of someone else's tongue in your mouth." John thought of Rodney's mouth, his full, slanted bottom lip, how smooth it would feel against John's tongue, how hungry. John reached down and pressed the heel of his hand against his dick and received an answering burn of pleasure right where he wanted it.

Rodney released a shuddery breath and then he rushed on in a too-thin voice. "Sorry, too much information, I know."

"No, it wasn't. Hey, remember being a teenager, making out for hours in the front seat of a car or on the couch in somebody's basement, keeping one eye open for her parents?"

Silence greeted him from Rodney's end and John suddenly felt sick, sure that this time he had given two much information. "Uh, hey," he blurted out. "You still there?"

"Yes, I'm here. I was just – well, the truth is I didn't make out with anybody until my second year at university so it was really more of a roommate than a parent problem and that was just annoying, not necessarily dangerous."

"Come on, McKay. Are you telling me that – "

"I'm telling you that I was a skinny 15 year old science and math geek when I graduated high school, Colonel. Have you got the picture now?"

John lay on the bed like he'd been knocked down there by a roundhouse right. What a dope he was. Why had he never considered that the reason for Rodney's awkwardness wasn't just that he was a self-absorbed geek but that he really really had little experience?

John thought about the women he'd watched Rodney crash and burn with since their arrival in Atlantis – Allina, Norina, Katie Brown, even Sam Carter on her brief visit here. Cadman had told him later how completely clueless Rodney was where women were concerned (just before he'd sent her off to inventory ammo) and yet, John had never speculated why.

"Sheppard?"

John's heart clenched with a confusing rush of emotions. "Listen. There's someone at the door, I should go."

"Ah, yes, of course. Well, goodbye, Colonel."

"Later, buddy," John said in a thick voice before he clicked off the phone.

John looked up at the ceiling but what he saw was Rodney, fumbling through a conversation with Allina; nervous and fidgety with Katie Brown in the mess; insulting Sam Carter without even realizing it. Rodney, who'd saved his ass over and over again, and showed more courage than a scientist was entitled to.

And this time, when John felt the lazy pull of arousal, he let it come.

John wrapped his hand around his dick and allowed himself to think about those things he didn't think about on Atlantis, when Rodney was so close and so dangerous. Rodney's wide mouth, his broad shoulders, his blue, blue eyes –

John imagined that it was Rodney's hand around his dick, Rodney's mouth silent for once while he kissed John, hard and hungry. John squirmed and thrust into the circle of his hand and when he came, it was in a scalding rush that left him feeling empty and alone.

* * *

There were gale force winds the next day. Well, not gale force exactly, but high enough that there were whitecaps on the lake. There was also a forty percent chance of thunderstorms and John decided to just stay inside. The hotel was quiet, as usual. And John got quiet, too, by osmosis.

During the respite, he put together an agenda in his head. First, he repaired his reputation with the hotel staff. He made nice with housekeeping, being as polite as he knew how to the maid and chatting up the supervisor when she walked past his room with her clipboard. She was startled and wary but when they parted, she blushingly called him Colonel Sheppard.

He gave the guy who brought his lunch a huge tip. Ditto the valet guy.

As he punched in Rodney's number, John felt like everything had been set aright, which should have been the first sign that things were about to go FUBAR. The first time the phone rang until it went to voice mail. The second time, Rodney picked up on the fourth ring and his tone was choked with panic.

"Sheppard, I have to call you back. There's a situation." John had heard that voice before. Out of force of habit, he got to his feet and reached for his sidearm, only to grab helplessly at the outer seam of his pants.

"Rodney, what's wrong? You okay?" John demanded harshly, his heart in his throat.

Something small and broken came out of Rodney's mouth and John's blood pressure soared through the atmosphere. "I'm fine, it's Madison. She … d'ner". The connection started to break up and John got the sense that Rodney was moving – through the house, in the car, maybe. " … first t - … ana – lactic … don't know wh …" Rodney went on and suddenly, John got it. Rodney had proudly showed pictures of the little blond girl with big blue eyes all around Atlantis and boasted about how she had the McKay genes. Apparently, she had inherited more than one McKay family trait.

"Let me know," John said and heard Jeannie crying in the background just before the connection was cut.

It was seventy two hours before John heard from Rodney again. The first twenty four hours were the worst. Rodney called three times but each time, he got no further than a couple of words into conversation when the connection faded and died. John slept fitfully that night, with one eye open.

John spent part of the next day on the golf course but he was only able to complete 9 holes before he gave up and went back to his room, checking with the operator to see if he'd gotten any calls while he was out. But he hadn't and there was only the answering machine at Jeannie's to listen to his measured request for somebody anybody to call him back.

By the third day, John didn't bother calling anymore. Instead, he spent hours not listening to the TV, trying to recall the reasons what happened to Madison Miller was really none of his business and wondering who the prick was who coined the phrase, "No news is good news".

When the phone finally did ring, John picked it up before the first ring was dead on the air.

"Colonel Sheppard? This is Chief Master Sergeant Harriman, calling for General Landry."

Caught between relief that it was the SGC at last and disappointment that it wasn't Rodney, John choked on a little spit when he replied. "Hey, Chief, what's the good word?"

"You haven't been answering your cell phone or pager."

John recovered quickly at the censure in the man's voice. "Hey, when I'm told that I have R and R, I take that very seriously." He was tempted to ask how he'd been found but figured he was better off not knowing.

"I don't blame you, sir. However, General Landry asked me to convey to you the importance of being reachable 24/7 and that if he tries to get a hold of you again – "

"Understood." John said shortly. "Was that the gist of the General's message?"

"Not quite, sir. You are to report at 0600 in two days, on the ninth."

"Tell the General I'll put it in my date book."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but I don't believe I will."

"Have a nice day, Chief."

"Same to you, sir."

* * *

He'd finally managed to fall asleep sometime after midnight when the cordless phone rang. John grabbed for it and juggled it to his ear without getting out of bed.

"Sheppard."

"I need your room number." Rodney's voice, in all its pissy, indignant glory, blew back at him and John could almost hear the whistle that his widely gesturing hands were making on the air. "Because these morons down here seem to think I'm a cat burglar intent on gaining illegal entry to your overpriced room. They don't believe me when I say that I have the highest security clearance known to man and that they'll be lucky if they still have jobs in the morning because – "

John got out of bed and grabbed his sweatpants and tee shirt off the dresser, ignoring the way his heart started to hammer in his chest. "Rodney, settle down. It's 4309." The call ended with an outraged click in his ear.

Two minutes later, John wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs and opened the door. Rodney, red-faced and furious, shouldered past him and John was glad of it, glad that Rodney was too wound up to see that John was having trouble catching his breath. A wave of eau de McKay hit him full in the face – coffee and clean sweat and possibly something chocolate – and John pushed the door closed with a deliberation that hid a raging struggle for control.

"This is just what I needed," Rodney said, throwing his bags onto the unmade bed. "My flight from Vancouver to Denver was delayed, first by weather, then by mechanical problems, and now, this. I was going to get a room here but they can forget it now. I'd rather stay at a Motel 6 than this pretentious hovel. I'll sue this place for harassment and then – "

John walked slowly into the room, his gaze locked on Rodney. His body felt electrified, caught in an unending loop of want and happiness. Being in the same room with Rodney McKay was making his body light up like a pinball machine. Before John could say anything, Rodney dropped wearily down on one corner of the bed, his big shoulders slumped forward and his head dropped to his chest. "This week sucked," Rodney said with quiet misery.

John stayed a good three feet away and crossed his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits to keep them from doing something stupid. From this direction, John could see the dark circles under Rodney's eyes. Rodney looked so tired and defeated it almost hurt John to look at him.

"How's Madison?"

Rodney looked up, blinking slowly. "She's recovering; they released her yesterday. Or today. What day is it, anyway?"

"Oh one thirty Sunday. Do they know what she reacted to?"

Rodney's mouth tilted ruefully. "Pecans. And very likely all tree nuts. Why can't anyone in my family suffer from something innocuous, like pigeon toes or astigmatism?"

John's mouth twitched, both with the need to correct his pronunciation of pecan and the mental image of a platoon of McKays wearing glasses and walking pigeon-toed. He ignored it. "When's the last time you had any sleep?"

Rodney waved one hand dismissively and closed his eyes. "Stayed at the hospital with Jeannie and Caleb until they told me to come here. And I couldn't sleep on the plane. Turbulence and whatnot. I like it better when you're the pilot."

A hot ache bloomed in his chest and John sorted through his bag of tricks for something casual to say. He was treading on dangerous territory here and he was thisclose to doing more than just treading. "Awww. That's sweet, Rodney," and if his voice was a little too low, Rodney didn't seem to notice.

Rodney sighed and rubbed his eye with the heel of one hand. "Don't let it go to your head, Colonel. You've caught me at a weak moment."

"Okay, that's it. You're going to bed."

Rodney's head came up. "What?"

"Whenever you start giving me compliments, I know you're out of it."

"That's not true. And what I meant was, how can – I mean, there's only the one bed." Suddenly, there was a pink tint to Rodney's cheeks that hadn't been there before.

That little blush had never not been hot to John but he courageously ignored it and got into the left side of the bed, still wearing his sweats and tee shirt. "I'll try to keep my hands to myself."

Rodney's eyes were huge and blue. "I – I should shower – "

"Uh-uh. In the morning."

"But – "

"I want to go back to sleep and that's not going to happen with your big clodhoppers stomping around on the marble tile."

"Hey."

"Come on. Get in." John slid down beneath the covers and turned on his side, away from Rodney. He closed his eyes and tried not to picture Rodney's expression. It'd be number 15 – arms crossed, lips disappearing into an irked slant, with a glare thrown in for good measure.

"Fine. Do I have your permission to brush my teeth?"

"Just make it snappy."

John listened to Rodney mutter under his breath, open up his suitcase, paw around inside and finally go into the bathroom. When the water came on, John exhaled, suddenly fiercely awake.

He lay there, keyed up and tense with a half hard dick that was totally going to go to waste tonight. What exactly was he doing here? What did he hope would happen? That Rodney would come out of the bathroom with his minty fresh breath and his broad, bare chest and jump him?

This was such a fuck up. He'd let it go too far, thinking about Rodney. And what was worse, thinking about Rodney and then taking his dick in his hand. It was everything that he'd successfully guarded against for the past two and a half years and he'd blown it all in a matter of days.

So his solution to all this was to share a bed with Rodney. John grit his teeth. "Way to go, John," he muttered under his breath. So he was still a little freaked about Rodney's date, that Rodney wanted to get laid, that he could have gotten laid. That could be a friend's concern for another friend, couldn't it?

It didn't necessarily mean that – John closed his eyes. Clearly, he was losing it. He scooted over closer to the side of the mattress and when Rodney came out of the bathroom and got into bed, he scooted over a little more, until he had one knee dangling off the edge.

"Goodnight, Sheppard."

John shivered. "Sweet dreams," he replied lightly and heard Rodney make a hmmph noise.

"Yeah. Like that's going to happen."

John lay there, not moving, even after he heard Rodney's breathing even out into soft snores and turned it over and over in his head until he hit upon a satisfactory explanation.

It was earth's fault – being here, away from his home, he was as out of step as he ever was. Obviously, the planet Earth fucked with his concentration, his discipline and, apparently, his sanity.

* * *

Something woke John some time later, which was strange since he felt like he hadn't fallen asleep yet. He checked Rodney's side of the bed and found it empty. Turning over, though, John spotted him standing at the window, peering past the curtains at the night sky.

"Rodney? You okay?" Whatever John had expected, it wasn't the soft, almost dreamy voice that drifted back to him.

"When I was a kid, I'd spend hours out on the roof, staring at the stars. Jeannie, too, when she was old enough."

There was no good reason for it, but John started to feel uneasy. "Really?"

"It's so clear out there. I can almost see Orion." Rodney laughed softly and leaned in with his forehead against the glass. "Remember when we found the Orion? That was a close call. Do you ever think about Norina?"

John propped himself up on an elbow. "Uh, no, not really. Look, it's still early. Why don't you – "

"I'm leaving the Stargate program."

"Excuse me?"

Rodney let the curtains fall back into place and in the darkness, John could hear his rapid, shallow breaths and little else. "You heard me."

John leaned over and switched on the bedside lamp, bathing everything in an incandescent golden glow, including Rodney's too pale face. "Wait. Hold up a second. Tell me what's going on."

"What are you, dense all of a sudden?" Rodney snapped. "You know what this is about, Colonel Oblivious. I'm not going to Area 51. I'm going back to Vancouver."

John threw the covers back and got out of bed, despite the fact that his legs suddenly felt as if they weren't attached to his body. "Well, the fuck you are. Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm not crazy, just realistic."

His breath rushed out of him, like someone was sitting on his chest, like he was caught in a riptide that was rapidly carrying him out to sea. "Is this about that woman? The one you had one date with?" John asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Gee, McKay, you really do need to get laid, don't you?"

Rodney glared at him, his fists curling at his sides. "Fuck you. You think I'd do this for a woman?"

"Then what the hell, Rodney? Why are you doing this? Why would you consider – "

Rodney looked at him as if he'd just announced that he was a Wraith Worshipper. "We aren't ever going back to Atlantis," Rodney said with a grim, crooked frown. "Don't tell me you believe otherwise."

The floor tilted violently and John fought to stay upright. Oh, fuck, there it was. Every thought he'd been fighting to keep chained up was let loose with a vicious snap.

"You don't know that," John said tightly, around the ball of panic that had risen in his throat.

"Come on, Colonel. They let Woolsey stay. Not Elizabeth. Not you and your big fat ATA gene. What does that say to you?"

John stood there, shaking with the rage that had been simmering for days, since the moment Helia had announced that she had control of the city, his city. Since O'Neill and Woolsey had botched the negotiation and had them walking through the gate with their tails between their legs. Since motherfucking Woolsey had been chosen to stay behind.

The worst of it was that he knew Rodney was right. They weren't going to see Atlantis again. It was time he faced it – Atlantis was gone. Teyla and Ronon and SGA-1 was gone. And of all the betrayal he'd suffered in the last several days, nothing compared to that. "So you're going to quit on me, too?" John asked, his voice as icy cold as the rest of him.

"What? This has nothing to do with you." Rodney shot back, his face red and his eyes angry, an expression that John had seen many times. But there was something else, something he couldn't quite get a handle on and it freaked him out. "I've been through this before, John. I nearly didn't survive my exile to Russia. It was the absolute low point of my life and I'm not going through that again."

"Rodney – "

"I'll get a place in Vancouver, so I'll be near Jeannie and Madison."

"And do what?" John was close to shouting. He knew by now how useless it was to argue with Rodney, who had an endless arsenal of answers at his disposal.

Rodney flinched. "I have offers."

"In Vancouver?"

"No. But I could use it as a home base. I've had several offers since I've been back. Very lucrative offers."

"I believe you," John answered grimly. He didn't doubt that Rodney could write his own deal, anywhere in the world. But suddenly, Vancouver seemed like a distant outpost on another planet. "Rodney, come on. Don't do this. Give it a few days." John could hear the pleading strain in his words but he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't – let Rodney go.

"Do you have any idea how hard this is? If I think about it any longer, I'll change my mind again."

"Good. So stay."

"They've given the Jumper research to Bill Lee." There was such bewilderment in Rodney's eyes that it leached away some of John's anger. "I asked for it and they said no. They couldn't have been more clear if they'd ripped my Atlantis badge off my sleeve. And I don't care what they offer me at Area 51. Besides, Jeannie and I – well, I want to make an effort there. I owe it to her."

John swallowed. Family, he thought, of course. He knew how much Rodney regretted his estrangement from Jeannie, how strongly Rod's presence on Atlantis had affected him in that regard. John didn't doubt that Rodney was sincere about wanting to see more of his sister and that was one argument John didn't want to make. All the fight drained out of him and he took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I understand."

Rodney blinked. "You do?"

"Sure. It's family. You have to do what's right for your family." _I thought we were family, goddammit. What about me?_ "Well. I'm – " John had to stop and clear his throat before he could finish. "I'm gonna miss you, buddy."

John watched Rodney's expression fall and settle into an unhappy mask. "Yeah," Rodney said softly, "same here."

They stared at each other for a long while and John savored every millisecond. The gravitational pull that had always existed between him and Rodney was even stronger, now that John had given up fighting it, now that the rules had changed. It uncurled in the pit of his belly and spread outward through his body and toward Rodney. If he thought that Rodney in full idiot rant was a thing of beauty, then this Rodney, who seemed to be watching and waiting, still and quiet and unguarded, was a work of art.

Then, abruptly the moment passed and Rodney started to walk past John, away, away from Colorado and toward Vancouver, and his family and some voluptuous scientist, away from John. His heart started to pound against his ribs and one word kept running over and over in his mind – no, no, no.

John grabbed Rodney's wrist before Rodney could get around him. "Wait." It was a desperate whisper that lingered on the air for much longer than John wanted. He felt hot and dizzy and if he were able, John would have taken it all back in the next second. But he couldn't and Rodney stopped.

"Wait? Wait for what?" There was such quiet resignation in Rodney's voice that John couldn't stand it any longer.

He lifted both hands to Rodney's face and kissed him with slow, sweeping tenderness, making it count in case this was the only time. The rasp of his stubble against Rodney's, the little "oh" of surprise that Rodney made, the solid warmth of Rodney's broad chest against him caused a rush of blood so loud in his ears that John couldn't have heard a protest if Rodney had made one.

But Rodney didn't protest and John didn't stop kissing him. He could feel the surprise in the tautness of Rodney's body, but Christ, it was so sweet to finally be here that John put off the inevitable apology and recriminations a little longer. His dick was rock hard and aching, near to popping a hole through his thin sweats and John couldn't help but push his hips forward, just a little, enough that the sensitive head rubbed against the solid curve of Rodney's thigh. And John just had time to experience the first scorching rush of lust when Rodney let out a sound low in his throat, parted his lips and began returning the kiss with an unrelenting sweetness John would have never imagined Rodney capable of. Rodney's arms went around him, tight and possessive, like John was already his and always had been.

The shock of that, the truth of it, the triumphant acceptance of it spurred John into action. He pulled Rodney toward the bed without breaking their kiss, stopping only long enough to settle into bed. Once there, they lay on their sides, Rodney's legs and arms tangled with his, Rodney's dick snug against his and Rodney's glazed eyes locked on his face.

"Oh, God," Rodney panted as he shoved his hand up the back of John's shirt. "What the hell took you so long?"

John's hand went down Rodney's pants to squeeze a handful of his round, firm ass, which earned him a strangled groan from Rodney and a satisfying throb from his dick. "Me? Why didn't you – ?" John's brain went offline as Rodney's thumbnail flicked over his nipple and a dangerous rush of fire moved from there to his groin. Fuck, he was so close already, he was never going to last more than another couple of minutes and he hadn't even gotten Rodney naked yet. And Rodney was still talking and it was still as much a turn on as it ever was.

"Me? I couldn't have been more obvious if I had walked up to you in the Gateroom and slapped you on the ass."

"Rodney," John growled against Rodney's lips and all at once, they were kissing hard, with intent and hunger and an urgency honed by almost three long years of want. John shoved at Rodney's shoulders and Rodney, to his frustration, shoved back. John wanted to get Rodney on his back. John wanted, no, needed, to get on top, to rub off on that big, broad body of Rodney's but it was that big broad body that won, pinning John to the mattress with hands and hips and a piercingly hot blue stare. John thought maybe his eyes rolled back in his head.

"You have no idea how long – " Rodney rocked his hips against John's, pushed his dick against John's, his hands wrapped around John's biceps, pinning him down, holding him still. "I can't believe -- you're so – I've always wanted – "

He wanted Rodney to shut up, he wanted to move, he wanted to get naked, he wanted Rodney to hold him down harder, he wanted, he wanted and he was getting it all for once, _everything._ In the midst of hot chaos of pleasure, John felt his balls draw up in preparation of sweet release. His hands came off the mattress, reaching helplessly up in an abortive attempt to get free and with a low groan, he arched his back and came, shooting in his pants, over and over until he was flat on the mattress again, boneless and dizzy, with Rodney hovering over him.

"Oh, wow, you just – you're amazing, you know that?"

"Rodney," John tried to say but he was still panting and fighting to get to the surface after one of the greatest orgasms of his life and what came out sounded closer to Radek's hometown than Rodney's first name. "Just gimme a minute," he slurred, blinking slowly and feeling pleasantly heavy and drowsy, so much so that it took a little while before he realized Rodney had gone still and quiet for the first time in the last ten minutes.

John looked up to see Rodney watching him, his blue eyes anxious. John touched Rodney's face, lightly trailing his fingertips down Rodney's cheek.

"What?" John asked softly.

"I'll mess this up." The tightly worded confession sent a rush of tenderness through John. "I always mess these things up and – "

John pulled Rodney down and kissed him slowly, as slowly as he knew how, until he could feel the tension leave Rodney's body, gradually settling his weight on top of John again. And before Rodney had a chance to freak again, John pushed him over so that Rodney was on his back and John took control.

John helped Rodney out of his clothes, first pulling the tee shirt over his head then pulling the sweatpants off him. Once Rodney was completely naked, John sat back on his heels and looked his fill, his heart pounding fiercely.

John would never understand how it was possible that someone as pale as Rodney looked so totally and completely hot but Christ, he was. John leaned forward, braced his weight on one hand and touched Rodney with the other, brushing the backs of his fingers down Rodney's thick neck and the hard curve of his bicep; over his collarbone and through the smattering of light brown hair to his small, pink nipples.

Rodney was surprisingly firm except for a little bit of a soft place at his lower belly and really, John wasn't paying too much attention to that because by then, his attention was totally focused on Rodney's cock – big, slick-red and wet at the head. John's mouth started to water at the thought of getting to taste that but first things first.

Rodney bore it all silently, shaking and panting, his hips pushing up at empty air. Ignoring Rodney's stare, John bent down and gave one of Rodney's nipples a gentle kiss. Rodney hissed, as if he were in pain and John flicked his tongue at the nipple, which evoked a series of growling, turned on sounds that made John's dick twitch. He let his bottom lip drag against the tiny pebbled peak. Rodney reached out for John's hips and tried to force them down onto his.

John resisted, pulling back to give Rodney a grin. "You fucking tease," Rodney shot back, with his blue eyes nearly black with arousal. "Please, touch me, John."

"Mmmm," John said, giving Rodney's other nipple the same treatment, "I am touching you, Rodney."

Rodney closed his eyes, turning his head to the side, the cords in his neck standing out. "Bastard," he cursed breathily. "I'll get you for this."

John laughed softly and pressed his mouth to Rodney's hairy breastbone and then moved down. He followed the trail of hair that went from there down to Rodney's belly button, sticking his tongue into it and gaining a laugh from Rodney.

He licked a long, wet stripe from Rodney's belly button to the dark brown bush of hair between Rodney's legs, studiously ignoring Rodney's dick, where it bobbed above his belly. "You smell," John said roughly, stroking the crease of Rodney's thighs with his thumbs before diving down farther and working his tongue into that pale line.

"I told you," Rodney gasped, opening his legs wider, rocking his hips and trying to get his dick in John's mouth. "I – shower – fuck, John, please."

John had never had a kink about body odors but smelling Rodney like this, unshowered and travel-weary and turned on, made his spent dick twitch hopefully. The sharp tang of sex and sweat made this seem even more real somehow, hotter and more grounded in them and what they were and all that they had been over the last two and a half years. Fuck, how had resisted this for so long?

He slanted a hot look up at Rodney, and swallowed him down without preamble. Rodney sucked in his breath and let loose with a litany of turned-on words and sounds.

"Oh, God, John, yessssss, this is so good, I knew it would be, I knew it, yeah."

Rodney's dick felt amazing on his tongue, heavy and silky hot. Rodney shivered under John when John started to suck him, hollowing out his cheeks as much as he knew how, rubbing his tongue against the underside. Rodney's hands landed on John's shoulders, opening and closing convulsively, his hips arching up, straining up so eagerly that John wished like hell that he could get hard again, so that he could rub off on Rodney's hairy leg and he wouldn't have to  
stop.

"John," Rodney said between gritted teeth, his hands tightening almost painfully on John's shoulders, "I'm gonna come, oh, wow, this is a – mazing – nrgh," and with one last thrust upward, Rodney started to come in John's mouth. It was so hot to feel Rodney out of control that John had trouble remembering to breathe. But somehow he managed and when it was over, John crawled back up Rodney's spent body and plastered himself to Rodney's side.

This was the part that John always always failed at – the after part. He never knew if was okay to cuddle, or fall asleep or what. He could think of a few instances where he'd been woken up by indignant slaps to the back of the head or a disappointed frown when he wriggled in a little too close.

But this was different. This was Rodney and as much as he didn't want to acknowledge it, this was, in all likelihood, goodbye and John really didn't give a fuck whether Rodney liked it or not. John curled his body toward Rodney's, resting his head on Rodney's broad shoulder and trying to commitment every single sensation to memory.

"John?" Rodney's breath was warm and moist against John's temple. "Was that a "goodbye, it's been great" thing? Because that would really, really suck."

"It has been great, though," John said, nuzzling Rodney's neck and trying to keep it light. Which was hard because there was something heavy going on with his chest. "Really great, Rodney. I mean it."

"Well, of course, you do, but let's not get all emotional, shall we?"

John closed his eyes and breathed in, absorbed every molecule of Rodney that was available to him. "That's my line, isn't it?" he returned with a self-directed sneer, thinking of all the times in his past when he'd thrown out a similar line of bullshit to keep someone from getting too close and had gotten away with it.

"I'm sure it is. But let's keep some perspective here. As much as I approve of saying goodbye like this, it's not like I'll be in another country."

John frowned. "I guess that depends on your definition of 'country'."

Rodney shifted and squirmed beneath him, moving John around until they were pressed together from toes to hair, both Rodney's arms closing and tightening around him. "I see your point," Rodney went on, running one big hand slowly up and down John's back. "But Nevada isn't actually a foreign land. It just seems that way, what with the heat and the legal prostitution and oh, yes, the heat."

John drew in a breath and held it, the steadfast thump of Rodney's heartbeat in his ear. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice a little too high. "Didn't they secede from the Union a few years back?"

With a quiet chuckle, Rodney pressed a kiss to the top of John's head. "That was Texas."

He propped himself up on an elbow. "Yeah, I think you're right." There was a moment or two of silent conversation, during which the two of them grinned goofily at each other and made sort-of promises and almost vows.

And when they were done, John leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss against the corner of Rodney's mouth. "Now. How 'bout that shower?" John rolled over and got to his feet.

"Oh, hell, yes," Rodney returned, bounding out of bed.

* * *

They dozed for a couple of hours and woke up starved. In between slow, dirty kisses, they dressed and moved the party downstairs to the breakfast buffet.

"So, listen," Rodney began as soon as they sat down with their loaded plates, "how are you at long-distance relationships? Because I've never had the pleasure, and considering my track record with people who live in the same city as I do, I'm not sure whether I'll be more or less successful. What do you think?"

 

John grabbed up his napkin and opened it with a sideways snap. "No problem. Piece of cake."

In the process of getting the waiter's attention by snapping his fingers over his head, Rodney paused long enough to scowl at John. "You said that too fast. Did you even hear the question?"

"Put your hand down and yes, I heard you. Look, we've had a relationship for the past three years. The only difference is we're adding sex to the mix."

Rodney sat back and crossed his arms, his mouth on a thin slant. "Oh, yes, only sex. Sex never complicates things."

John tilted his head thoughtfully. "Hmm. I see your point. Okay, then. No more sex."

"Don't be ridiculous. We haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet." There was an open heat in Rodney's eyes that was new. And there was an answering heat in John's that wasn't new at all.

John grinned. "I think you just answered your own question, didn't you?"

Rodney stared at him for a moment, then did the finger-snapping, oh my God, I've got a plan and we aren't going to die thing. "Yes. You're right. We can totally do this. Piece of cake. And speaking of cake – " Rodney bent his head over his plate and inhaled blissfully. "Mmmm. I have really missed not-frozen waffles made from batter. And warm syrup. And real butter– "

"And me?" John waggled his eyebrows.

Rodney began to cut up his waffle with geometric precision, but he paused just long enough to look up at John through his lashes and grin. "Maybe," Rodney said.

And much later, after John knew what Rodney's smile felt like against his skin and how Rodney shivered when John held him down, they covered the last forbidden topic.

"We'll go back," Rodney said as he reached up, grabbed John's head with both hands and kissed him hard. "I promise, we'll go back."

John released a long, shuddering breath as Rodney arched up against him, holding onto John's ass and pushing his wet cock along side John's. John felt a hot rush of longing, for Rodney and for Atlantis and for him, Rodney and Atlantis entwined together. Through the dim light in the room, John lowered his head. "You'll find a way," John whispered roughly, rubbing his face against Rodney's.

Rodney shook his head. His hands slid down John's shoulders to clamp around John's biceps. "No," Rodney said against John's ear, kissing him with tenderness that nearly broke him. "_We'll_ find a way."


End file.
